Effects
by Minako Nine
Summary: Quatre is unhappy with hi boring life (as adrenaline jinkies often are) However it won't stay 'boring' for long. (4x1x4, ?x4, mentions of 3x5x3)


(Spiffy MSWord Spellchecked and kinda beta'd version! I am officially the worst typer in the world!)

I needed to write this, I kid you not. A month or two or three ago I had a recurring dream of this story, and eventually I sat down and wrote this first chapter. I've been told in other fanfiction that I have an odd sense of humour which tends to stick out like a sore thumb. I didn't want to do another POV - I write enough of those for bloody AS Coursework - but I can't tell this story from an unbiased point of view and thus you get an active narrator... this is in the 2nd person, I am lead to believe.  
I did have an idea like this about a year ago as well, you see, which is why I had to write it - but this was when I had space on my old hard disk, PaintShopPro, and my website was on Geocities. Weren't too bad days, as I did have MSWord back then...  
Basically, unfortunately you have my own ramblings on this here... feel free to skip this. I apologise in advance for skipping between UK and US spellings, I am from UK, but I read so much US it gets a little confusing O.o

So, this story is a 4x1x4, with some 3x5, 2xH maybe, and more then a little ???x4. You will understand.

**--**

**Effects** of Autumn

All things considered, he should be living quite a happy life.

An everyday desk job like almost everyone else in the world did - though everyone else didn't make that excessive amount of money - and living with two of his friends, who for all intents and purposes, had quite happy lives too.

But damn, was he ever bored.

Being a pilot can be considered a constant adrenaline rush. Like the sort of thrill you get out of a rollercoaster, except with the added tension that this is not a ride; this is something you control yourself. Add to that, the fact you're piloting a bloody heavy, greatly feared, and kinda awesome mech, fighting the good fight day-in, day-out, risking your life at every turn, etcetera, etcetera, and you've got the formula for creating an adrenaline junkie. Not good for just returning to life at a desk job, no, not at all.

It's because of this, that Quatre is not particularly happy with his life as a whole. Desk job, whole lotta money, and luckily not as much fame as he could have; not a good formula for anything. Everything was just a bit... screwy to say the least. Had he really expected to be able to go back to a semi-normal life after fighting in a war or two? Yep, pretty much why he gets coined as naive a good deal of the time. And he was screwed on the love-life front, too; because of his rather astounding amount of moolah, that made relationships with... just about anyone really confusing, because what if they were just in it for the money? Contrary to popular belief, various sisters had not set him up on dates with random women; Duo had, and he deserved death for it. Well, the payback was in getting him to deal with all the seriously crazy stalker-types showing up at their happy abode. So, that basically narrowed down any chance of a relationship to his slightly depressingly small group called 'people I can trust'. Add to that the fact that girls just didn't do it for him, and you've got about four possible 'significant other' choices.

Sure gets you far, doesn't it?

He had, at some point, held a candle for each of his fellow pilots; some, longer then others. Duo had been mysterious and exciting, dark and bubbling at the same time, some sort of vicious outspoken contradiction to the world. But for all Quatre's long looks, he eventually noted that Duo was not a contradiction; it was plain and simple that at times, he was just plain ol' crazy. There's nothing wrong with being depressingly happy, ya know. WuFei had seemed like a lasting hope in the darkness, and had given him strength when his own threatened to fail him in the events prior to the last war. But that candle was blown out very quickly. Trowa was the sort of crush one might develop when growing up in a regular American Teen Movie world, one that made him happy upon seeing the marginally taller boy and sad when he wasn't around. It took a long time to nail it down, but Quatre slowly dawned on a revelation; Trowa was a quiet, shy boy, who just needed a friend like him. Then, there was Hiiro. Hiiro and his lean form, visible and hidden strength, the conviction to carry on, and a heart that seemed closed off to the world. When he met and spent time with him, Hiiro seemed the antithesis of everything he believed himself to be. But, needless to say, during the time he was obsessing over Hiiro a little, all he really wanted was for everything to be alright and Trowa to come out of nowhere and sweep him away or some other weird romantic notion like that...

Quatre supposed it was because of this neglect of his affections toward Hiiro that they were suddenly cropping up again.

But, he couldn't help it, to be totally honest. Hiiro was just there. Every time he came back from what felt like a hard day at work, Hiiro was there to ask him what his day was like and listen to his pointless complaining about the greedy and stupid nature of most businessmen. Hiiro was the one who made great coffee in the morning when he didn't need to, who allowed him to act hard-done-by on those few occasions the machinations of corporate blighters just got too much for him, even though Hiiro most likely dealt with really dangerous and horrible things all the time. Hiiro was the one who seemed to know when to tell him to move, and when to stop, when he hadn't the courage or the mind to do so himself. Hiiro looked after him when he got sick (perhaps that was only once, but it was plenty for him). Hiiro allowed him to indulge the urge to hug someone at times. Hiiro was a steady presence in a life that seemed to have changed beyond recognition, reminding him who he was, what he was, and why he as here.

I'll put it bluntly; Hiiro was goddamned hot and he was being awfully nice of late, so what's a boy to do?

On another boring day, of another boring week, in another boring autumn, Quatre Winner was currently having trouble getting out of bed. It was one of those cold autumnal days he hated. At least in winter the mornings and evening were dark, which seemed to fit cold times. In autumn, you got long, cold, grotty, rainy, horrible days like this one was. The kind you just want to stay in bed for. But, he knew he might as well get up, because he was awake now, and there was no chance of sleeping through the alarm. Being a light sleeper doesn't really have its advantages.

He stumblingly got out from under the warm, inviting covers and rubbed his eyes, not paying much mind to the fact he kept veering to the side a bit like a drunk. He ambled towards the kitchen once he'd rid the sleep from his eyes and instead smelt the coffee. Upon entry, he made a noise instead of articulating coffee and sank into a chair, resting his arms on the table, and then his head on his arms. A cup of the magic stuff was placed in front of him and he just couldn't resist.

Hiiro smiled at this for some unknown reason. Quatre had been like this for the past few mornings, and the same thing seemed to occur around the same time each year. That thought brought up something bittersweet; for although it was around this time that he'd gotten to spend so much time with the blonde, it had been at a cost. But, it was all in the past, where it belonged.

He was broken from his thoughts by a thud, looking and seeing that Quatre had finished his first cup of coffee. And it hadn't really done much to help. Such is the plight of a caffeine addict. He filled the cup up again (because he knew if he didn't, he'd probably have some piece of his anatomy threatened, as Quatre wasn't particularly pleasant in the morning, even with the caffeine...) and then saw the stuff disappear pretty quickly, followed by a thud and a groan.

"Do you want some breakfast?" he asked tentatively, knowing the response would be 'no' at this time. Which indeed it was, with a 'request' for more coffee. (Request once again, being a tentative phrase)

"Have you noticed what the time is?"

The blonde head shot up and stared at him like he was a clock face. Unnerved, Hiiro directed his gaze to the real clock, knowing he would be followed, and didn't have to watch to see the other dash off.

A sly grin stole over him.

---

Now, as far as what the people who worked for him thought, there were a number of misconceptions surrounding Quatre, and as the narrator of this odd little tale, I feel the need to point them out to you.

**Misconception Number One** - Quatre is a bit of a weakling. Now this is one he never dispelled; and in fact, used to his advantage when he was feeling particularly lazy, and asked other people to open things for him. The other reason it was a good thing people thought he was weak (in the opinion of himself, anyway) was it meant that any potential dangers that came out of nowhere would very much underestimate him. Of course, the reality is much different; while he probably wouldn't beat any of his fellow pilots in an out-and-out show of pure strength, that's not exactly what's needed to win a fight. Like the guy in Jason and the Argonaughts who threw his pebble the furthest by using a small amount of power smartly, taking Quatre on in a fist fight is a sure-fire way to get your arse kicked pretty soundly. His tactical genius meant he analysed everything about a combatant and the surroundings in mere seconds; and there isn't a person out there who lacks a weak spot, is there? (but, he wouldn't need to do that with anyone below gundam pilot calibre - a swift kick usually sorted any of those sorts out quicker then you could say... well, anything with one really, really short syllable. Cut off in the middle.)

**Misconception Number Two** - Outside of the business world, Quatre is a total ditz. This, once again, was one he let continue to be perpetrated - but, always with the 'outside business' bit. Because there is no way in hell he'd ever be able to convince any businessman EVER that he didn't have a very shrewd business sense. Anyone who thought that got trampled on by him pretty quick. He kept up the ditz act elsewhere so he didn't have to hear lewd businessmen talk about women and whatever else it was they talked about that served to do nothing but make him want to maim them, or something as productive as that. This, luckily, worked.

**Misconception Number Three** - Quatre is a bit on the scrawny side because he doesn't eat enough. There wasn't anything that could be further from the truth. He had a high metabolism, and besides that, likes food, so he eats... a lot of stuff. From anywhere between rice crackers and popcorn chicken. He just liked to eat food. This was one he kept up because it meant his assistant gave him food.

**Misconception Number Four** - Quatre is a workaholic.  
I suppose spending a lot of time in the office gives the appearance of a workaholic.  
Though famous among his friends for having a meticulous eye for detail, and for not stopping on something important until it was done, to him the work he did in this office wasn't really important. He was pushing paper around and trying to make sure that the greedy didn't grab hold of his money. Because his money was very important to continue financing work and stuff... but he knew ANYONE ELSE IN THE WORLD (or at the very least, one of his sisters, nieces, nephews, brothers-in-laws, sisters-in-laws, great nieces, great nephews, etc etc...) could do it for him. He was still working on a way of worming out of the post in favour of more exciting pursuits like being an active Preventer who got up at 3pm, worked 4-12, and slept for a long time. But for the meantime he spent a good deal of time in the office because he took long lunches and liked afternoon naps. So he usually got home at 8 or 9pm, after leaving at about 8 or 9am, and that looks like a long day on paper, but people rarely came into his office to see if he was getting on with any of the supposed work he had. This was probably a result of his deep boredom in the job. It was making him really cynical and apathetic so he liked to sleep instead. Which is a bit apathetic. But, it meant he didn't sporadically quit and leave the company in ruin. That would probably cost a lot of jobs or something, and probably mess with the economy somehow. Well, we are talking really, really, REALLY big business here.

It was under misconception number Four that Hiiro happened to come across on today's visit to the ubiquitous office where Quatre 'works'. The assistants knowing him very well just smiled and let him pass through into the silent office, where Quatre happened to sleeping on a pile of paper... not the most comfortable way, certainly, but it looks the most like he'd actually been working, wouldn't you say? Artistically sprawled across random inky documents and napping. Hiiro was smiling a bit because he looked cute like that. Some people would say that something that could probably kill you with their pinkie in their sleep was not cute... but they are not the people who point at Zero Custom and go 'Ooooh, SPIFFY!'. So, Hiiro thought Quatre looked cute at this moment. And most other moments. Other times he looked smouldery... or so it went in the pilots mind.

And so, we've come across a bit of dramatic irony, it seems. Quatre likes to think about Mr. Dark and Handsome... a lot and Hiiro likes to think about Mr... Smouldery and Cute a lot too. They probably talked at cross-purposes all the time and mistook each others action again and again like in Shakespeare comedy, or even perhaps tragedy. They were most likely bound to stumble through forever missing each other until living happily ever after like in Sleepless in Seattle. Of course, it's not Shakespeare, and it's not smooshy mooshy Hollywood. Its two young boys... okay, young MEN... who are confused and hormonal and of unusual circumstance.

As pointless as that entire paragraph was, there was a point somewhere. But, Hiiro was still smiling at sleeping Quatre so it is not too much of a matter. He moved stacks of paper (once more, artfully placed for the appearance of far too much work for one person)out the way and shook the others shoulder, stroked hair, poked sides, did all the things that usually worked in this task, eventually getting the response he wanted, some sloth-like movement.

"Hiiro, lets go get some lunch!"

Sighing as though in premature resignation or such, "It's four o'clock. Seriously, who has lunch at four o'clock in the afternoon? Is anywhere open? Why didn't you go to lunch earlier?"

"It was obvious you'd come and see me today, so I was waiting on you. I'm reeeaally hungry... skipped breakfast, remember?"

"It was obvious, was it?"

A slightly ruffled mess sat up in a very big expensive, expansive, leathery chair, reports and such smudged from freshly-printed paper having had pressure applied too early, perfect picture of disarray. Newsprint on the cheek, it was cute, and smiling like one who knew more then you would. And he did know more then you.

"Yes, the moment I saw you this morning, I knew you'd come and see me later on today... it was written in the stars Hiiro, twas!"

Perhaps the real clue had been the fact Hiiro always showed up on a day when Quatre was tired in the morning, and missed breakfast, had that look about him like this morning. A sadness much farther then skin-deep.

He hated seeing it. He wanted it to go away and be replaced with something else, something other then it... happiness would have been the most preferable; anger would have been something he could deal with. But sadness...

---

"I hate Autumn."

It had the appearance of a cheap American diner, like the ones you see in movies and TV shows, where they refill your weak coffee for free and sell lots of dishes that are all made from the same ingredients, and just cooked differently.

The trees that lined the streets like a boulevard were gorgeous colours of gold and red and brown, the streets were littered, and somewhere children were probably playing in plies of the things. It hadn't rained recently, meaning the leaves were crispy and crunchy underfoot like a bag of crisps spilt onto pavement, scenting up the air with the light perfume of change. The air was sharp and charged, an electricity in the air, and in the backs of shops Christmas decorations and stock were being hoarded in time for that special time of year when money is sent by the bucket. It was cool, enough to make you shiver if the breeze caught you the wrong way, but not so much you needed scarves and gloves. It seemed the perfect example of one of those lovely Autumnal days that just pop up now and again.

Here was the one who insisted on remaining on Earth for the changes of the seasons, sitting next to a view of this perfect day, claming hate for it with a tone that meant no joking.

Sipping he watered-down coffee, Hiiro knew the reason.

"Why is that then?"

A pregnant pause; a sip, and the light clink of a cup being set down.

"Duo once told me, that there's a tree that's covered in leaves. On each leaf is the name of someone who is alive. When the leaf falls, that person dies."

"Yes, that's a religious thing, isn't it?"

Quatre nodded before taking another sip of the loosely-termed coffee. He looked tired.

"In Autumn, all the leaves on the trees fall off, and all those people die, don't they?"

Very tired. And upset. Allegorical as it was to talk about something neither of them related to usually, Hiiro understood what he meant.

"But when a leaf falls, it's too late to put it back. Mourn over it and get over it in time. New leaves grow back on the tree, don't they? New, healthy ones."

Quatre stared at him incredulously. Like he had said something absolutely terrible, perhaps.

"Gardeners have to cut off entire branches of trees. They don't mourn the old leaves they lost, do they? They had to cut out what was rotten so the entire tree wouldn't fester and die slowly. If the gardener doesn't cut away the infected part of the tree, the whole thing dies. Do you understand? Sometimes when a child breaks a branch by accident it's a good thing in the long run."

"But Hiiro..."

"Shh. Drink that stuff and pick what you want to eat. You were complaining just a minute ago about that, weren't you?"

Hiiro had a way of trivialising his guilt. But instead of chafing from that sort of treatment, Quatre understood what he was trying to do. Sandpaper the cogs to get the whole machine moving again. This was when they rusted up, this time of year. Staring at the menu he couldn't take in what it was he was looking at. He was drifting into a different world, it was warm and cushy and he had nothing to fear and nothing to doubt. It was like the dream he had at that time before, he was so sad and hurt and cold, and he was wrapped up warm and safe and away from it all... and instead when he woke up, when he broke the protective cocoon, he was straight into a nightmare...

It was only when his head hit the table he realised he'd dozed off. Hiiro took the menu away from him and gave him a look that just about said it all. He smiled in reassurance and stood up instead of trying to get the menu back. Quatre was tired and all he really wanted was to go home and get under some blankets and ask Hiiro to look after him, feed him soup and tell him stories, soothe the ache in his heart and abate the pain in his head.

Somewhere in his mind his own special gift was acting up on him, and behaving rebelliously, perhaps.

--

(Okay, that was a big load of crapp... I really want it to be better but I can't make it any better for this bit. I just needed to get by this and let the story really take place. I can hopefully assure that it will be a fun ride, maybe. Now silly notes;  
One, I don't live in America, I'm visiting Washington DC in February at that will be the first time I have been to America EVER, so I don't really know what diners are like; they just call up images of 'coffee' and booths, and secrets and journeys etc.  
Also I like Quatre the Creampuff alongside Quatre the Hardass... so there will probably be a completely wrong mixture of both. We haven't even seen Duo yet and he lives in the same house as the tow lovebirds O.o  
This entire chapter was written on three separate occasions; this is weird for me as I rarely start a chapter and not finish it straight away. Also the tenses are messed, I know, but that's how it came out in my mind. Also I apologize for the slightly convoluted path this has taken so far...  
Oh, and props to the person who can spot the Radiohead lyrics in this. Hint-Hint, towards the end)

Writing another chapter quite quickly, maybe.


End file.
